Unforgivable
by kates the firework
Summary: Chrissie Carter was bullied by Tony Stark when she was in the fifth grade, and the injurys she sustained left her fighting for her life. When Tony, and two other Avenger members,think she died, Chrissie escapes the hospital. 15 yeras later, when the Avengers realise shes NOT dead, they kidnap her for her silence. But when Nick Fury realises who she really is,things get out of hand.
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning

**_Hi! Kates the firework here!_**

**_First fanfic ever! Yay!_**

**_Like I said, its the first one, so dont expect too much!_**

**_Hope you guys enjoy and if you have the time please feel free to leave a review_**

**_It will be much appreciated! _**

**_Right, here it is then!_**

I gave another cry of pain as his fist connected with my stomach again.

"Had enough yet, Queen Victoria?" Tony Stark asked, emerging behind Brian who nowadays seemed to be his shadow.

Another punch to my stomach. "Well?"

"Screw you," I hissed through clenched teeth.

"Have it your way," he replied, as Brian delivered yet another punch. A sickening crack echoed throughout the now empty school hallway. The crowd that had gathered behind Tony laughed, some nervously, but most out of pure cruelty. I scanned the crowd, and, to no surprise, I realised I knew most, if not all of them. I caught Clint Barton's eye and he stopped laughing abruptly, but I knew he wasn't going to speak up. How could he? Tony Stark was easily the most popular kid in school, and had the power to ruin your life, which was exactly what he was doing to me now.

My chain of thought was broken as Brian slammed me up against the lockers. He was incredibly strong for only thirteen years of age. Or maybe it was me that was weak.

"Is this how it's going to be Stark?" I yelled."Getting paid idiots to do your dirty work for you? That's just typical of you, I guess. You're a coward!" Brian hit me harder.

The crowd went silent. Tony turned. "Enough Brian," he said in a quiet voice of authority that showed he was used to being listened to, and Brian stopped. I fell to the ground, pain zapping all of my strength. Tony spat on the ground next to my head. I glared up at him. "That is what you are worth, _Margaret_," he said my name mockingly. "People like you aren't worth my time" he said in louder voice, so the crowd could hear him.

"Not worth your time?" I said incredulously, and then laughed sarcastically. "Oh, right, I get it now. I hate to break it to you Tony, but being a bastard to people isn't going to win your fathers approval-"

His face went white. "You don't know anything about my father!" he screamed at me.

I smiled up at him. "Its obvious to people like me. You're so angry at him for neglecting you and having no time for you, you take it out on someone else!" Now I was screaming too. "This act, this charade, it won't last, Tony, trust me. People are going to see right through you and your empty life, the genius boy who supposedly has everything. And then they will see the coward I see, the boy who lashes out and hurts people with a sick pleasure. You disgust me."

His eyes glinted dangerously as he listened. "What," he said in a dangerously low voice, "did you say?"

"I said-" but I was cut off. He hit me right where he knew Brian had cracked, if not broken, my rib. I cried out in pain.

"Say it," he said venomously. "Say it!" all the while hitting my stomach with his fists. The crowd wasn't laughing anymore. It was completely silent. "SAY IT!" he screamed. There were gasps and screams of horror as I coughed blood onto the schools clean floor. Tony stood up, horrified at what he had done. He and the rest of the crowd scattered, until only one boy remained. I saw his feet approach my face and I looked up. The boy the dark curly hair and I recognised him as Bruce Banner, who was in the same class as Tony. He looked down at me, eyes full of pity, before crouching down to my level. He put my arm around his shoulder and pulled me up off the ground. I was still coughing, so he handed me a tissue from his pocket. I managed to gasp my thanks, before stumbling out the door, out of the hell hole that was middle school. Once outside, I grabbed the fence for support and stumbled to my house, pausing once or twice when the coughing became too much. For once, I actually felt grateful that we lived so close to the school. I gripped the gate hard as I stumbled into the small garden outside our terraced house. I heard the door open, looked up and froze.

A man dressed completely in black, with a gun in one hand and a sack in the other, was the closing the front door, MY front door, behind him. He saw me, rooted to the spot with fear, and stopped too.

We stared at each other for a long time. Then, he moved so fast I wasn't sure that he had even existed, and shot me in the leg. I had no strength left. My legs gave way underneath me and I fell to the ground. Someone caught me just before my face smashed into the concrete path, and rolled me over onto my back. I heard a familiar, unusually panicked voice saying "911, please help me, help, she's _dying, _please-"before I sank gladly into a deep black hole of unconsciousness.

_**DON DON DON!**_

_**SUSPENCE! :-P**_

_**Hope you guys enjoyed it! **_

_**Peace out!**_

_**-kates the firework**_


	2. Chapter 2: The News

**_What's up guys? _**

**_Chapter 2 is coming up now!_**

**_But first, a MASSIVE MASSIVE MASSIVE thank you to April Woods and Snoweylilly for their reviews_**

**_You guys are awesome! _**

**_So i wont leave you guys in suspence any longer :-p_**

**_Here's Chapter 2!_**

I heard an annoying beeping noise next to me. I shook my head to try and clear my vision. I was in a clean white room, small, and I was alone. No one else was there. Still confused, I looked down at my body, only then noticing that I had an oxygen mask over my mouth. I tried to get it off, but it was strapped firmly to my face. The door opened and a lady walked in, in a white uniform. She smiled kindly at me, and I realised with a start that she was a nurse, which meant-

"You're in a hospital, dearie," she said kindly to me, noticing my confused expression. "It's a good thing you're awake. A lot of people have been very worried about you."

I sat up suddenly at her words, and my chest tightened painfully. "Are my parents here?" I gasped with the shock of the pain in my stomach and pulled in vain at the mask.

She averted my gaze, pushing me gently down on the bed again."Easy does it. You have a cracked rib and a punctured lung, you need that mask. Does it hurt to breathe?" she gave a small smile, but her eyes were rimmed with sadness for me.

I noticed she had avoided my question. I tried again. "Only if I sit up too quickly. Who's looking for me?" I couldn't imagine anyone but my parents would be out there, but she did say a lot of people, so...

"They said they were your friends from school," I looked at her blankly. I had no friends, from school or otherwise, Tony had made sure of that. The nurse continued, oblivious to my confusion. "They said their names were Tony, Clint and Bruce, and that they wanted to apologise to you personally."

I froze in terror and anger. "Do not let them come anywhere near me," I said hoarsely, finally coming free of the mask and sitting up, this time more slowly, when an idea came to me. It was strange and it was cruel, but it would rid me of them forever. "Tell them I'm dead," I whispered croakily, "that I died from the earlier wounds to my lungs." The nurse looked shocked, so I continued hurriedly. "Please," I begged her. "You have no idea what these people have done to me."

She looked at me for a long time. And then she said, "If that's what you want." She looked at me with masked amazement, and quickly left. I angled myself in the bed so I could see out the small window in the door. The nurse was talking to the three boys. One of them, I think it was Bruce, buried his face in his hands. The other two didn't move. They looked frozen. I couldn't understand their reactions. All three of them stood up and left, arms around each other's shoulders, something I never saw any of them do in school to each other. I didn't get it. They couldn't possibly care, could they? Tony made my life hell, and the other two certainly didn't do anything to stop him. It didn't make sense in my nine year old brain. The nurse came back again, and I remembered my question that she never answered.

"Where are my parents?" I asked her quietly and she bit her lip.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "The doctors tried everything they could, but they were too late." She looked up, tears in her eyes. "Your parents are dead."

I blinked. This couldn't be happening. But it was. "How?" I managed to croak out, trying so hard not to let the tears spill, and failing miserably.

"Whoever it was that shot you shot them as well." She rubbed my arm. "If it's any comfort to you, they didn't suffer."

"It is, thank you," I tried to smile at the nurse, who probably would rather be anywhere else in the world right now than in a hospital telling a nine year old girl both her parents had died, but I didn't have in me. Instead, I busied myself with asking her how long it would take for my bullet wound to be healed, and how long I had to be on oxygen for. In short, how long it would take for me to be out of there.

It wasn't that easy.

I had to meet with the head of an adoption house on when I was going to be transferred from the hospital I was in, to the hospital there. I wasn't having that, so one night, with the help of the nurse who had delivered me the news of my parents (whose name was Mary), I escaped the hospital.

I got to my parents house, and it was sealed up with police tape, but it was obvious no one had been here in a while. I got my rucksack and my passport, the big wad of money my parents had always kept in one of my old socks for emergencies, and some clothes, before heading to the airport. I had a faint idea of where a friend of my dad's lived, somewhere in Vancouver, which couldn't have been further away from Miami, where my life had been shattered to pieces.

So I boarded the plane and took one last look of Miami before the plane took off, ready to leave this life behind me, and start a new life.

A life without fear.

**_Hope you guys enjoyed that!_**

**_The Avengers are coming up in the next chapter!_**

**_Feel free to leave a review!_**

**_-kates the firework_**


	3. Chapter 3: The Kidnapping

**Hi guys! **

**Firstly, a massive thanks to April Woods, Snoweylily, 08bdovea, soccerstar0198, Science Queen and Cassandra-Luna-Bellatrix-Snape for all following Unforgivable!**

**THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU! **

**Here's Chapter 3, enjoy!**

**(P. S. Remember the name Alex, who is briefly mentioned in this chapter, as she will be returning in a later chapter, and is based on one of my best friends ever, "Alex". She is quite very awesome. And if you're reading, "Alex", hope you enjoy!)**

"Five dollars and sixty-seven cents please when you're ready, sir, "I said to my final customer of the day. The little old man fumbled with his cash before passing ten dollars over the counter. "Get a little something for yourself, sweetheart," he said, winking at me. I hurried to get him his change, but he was already gone. I smiled to myself as I dropped the note into the cash register. I already had enough money than I knew what to do with. I hung up my Starbucks apron and cap, before turning the sign from "Hi, we're open" to "Sorry, we're closed".

"Hey Mel?" I called out. Mel, the manager and owner of our branch of Starbucks, appeared from the kitchen. "I'm going home," I said to her, tossing her the keys.

"Have a good one, honey," she called as I opened the door to go. I waved, before walking onto the unusually not busy footpath. I walked to my apartment, thinking to myself.

Life had been good since I had moved to Manhattan six months ago. I was still in touch with Alex, whose parents had adopted me all those years ago in Vancouver, when I was looking for my dad's friend there when I was nine. Unfortunately, I didn't anticipate how painful walking all day would be with a punctured lung and a cracked rib would be, and I was sitting on a bench, gasping for breath and trying to stem the bleeding in my leg from my freshly reopened bullet wound when they found me and took me home. Alex and I have been like sisters ever since and legally we actually are sisters, I guess, since her parents adopted me and all.

I turned a corner, heading to my apartment block. Most people back home in Vancouver thought I was mad to move to Manhattan, after the so-called "alien attack" in which case the Avengers "saved the world."

_This _is why I don't watch the news anymore.

I suddenly became aware of headlights behind me. Any other night, this would have not have been strange, on one of the busiest roads in all of New York. But tonight, the road was just as non busy as the footpath, and it was eerily quiet. Also, these headlights never passed me out. I stopped and glanced over my shoulder. A white van with headlights still on was pulled in on the sidewalk. I looked straight ahead again, took a deep breath, and ran like hell to my apartment. I heard shouting and doors slamming and I ran faster. I was nearly there, so nearly there, when I felt my pursuers gaining on me. I felt a sharp pain hit the back of my head, and I fell forward. I felt someone catch my shoulders before my face smashed into the concrete. With a start, I remembered the last time someone had done that, over 15 years ago now. I tried to look at the person who had caught me, but black dots clouded my vision. I saw the outline of a hooded face, and then nothing.

-x-

"Dude, I'm telling you, this was a bad idea."

"Relax Clint, she'll be fine. You heard what Fury said, we did the right thing."

"I'm telling you Tony, this was a bad idea. What if we threw the brick too hard and she doesn't wake up? What happens if she does wake up? What do we tell her then? What-"

"Clint, shut up, go and play with your arrows or something and stop freaking me out. She'll be fine, she'll just-"

I groggily opened my eyes and shook my head, becoming aware of a shooting pain at the back of my head. I groaned.

All talking stopped. I blinked my eyes hard and everything became sharper. I gave a yell when I realised who was in the room with me. I had my back against the wall, and pulled my arms are my knees protectively. I was on a bed, and a big room with little furniture. One wall was made entirely of mirror. Three men dress completely in black were staring at me. One still had his balaclava on, but the other two had pulled theirs off, leaving their faces exposed. Though I hadn't seen any of them in over 15 years, I had no problem identifying them.

My tormentors from middle school hell had come back to haunt me.

I gave a bloodcurdling shriek, before Clint rushed over and clamped his hand over my mouth. "Hey," he said casually, though there was a hint of panic in his voice. "kinda, keep it down, will you?"

I bit his finger and he yelped.

"Clint, she can scream as loud as she wants, no one will hear her down here." Tony sat down in one of the few chairs.

"What do you want?" I hissed, glaring at him.

He didn't answer immediately. I could see him choosing his words carefully. "Your silence."

"You stalk me, knock me out, take me to God knows where, just to ask me. For. My. Silence?"

"...yes." Tony answered simply. I gave a full on British glare and he shrank back. My head throbbed. "What did you knock me out with anyway?"

"A brick." Now that I wasn't screaming anymore, Clint left my side, calmly walking over to join Tony. I could still see him nursing the finger I bit, and I would have smiled, if his words hadn't shocked me so much. I gripped my knees tighter.

The third man took off his balaclava as all of this was going on and I wasn't surprised to see a much older Bruce Banner. He looked shattered.

"I don't remember agreeing to that," he said quietly. "I mean, you presume, of course, when a man with an IQ equivalent to Einstein and a master assassin decide to kidnap someone, you would think they would have more creative ways of doing it than flinging a brick at that said someone that they just happened to pick up while passing a construction site."

"Quite true, my dear Bruce, but, then again, I was never a predictable kind of person." Tony replied, grinning at Bruce.

"So when can I go home?" I said, looking at Bruce while I spoke, he being the least hated out of the three men that were in the room with me.

Bruce looked down. "You're not going home."

"What?!" I yelled at him.

He looked at me again, eyes full of sorrow and regret. My mind flashed back to the last time he had looked at me like that, when I had been coughing blood all over the school floor, a lifetime ago now. He opened his mouth to speak, but just then a door that I had not yet noticed opened, and a woman with short red hair came into the room. I recognised her as one of the Avengers; I had seen her in the paper once when Mel had left it on the counter when I was on my break.

"What's going on here?" she asked, addressing Tony and Clint sharply.

Tony and Clint both hissed under their breath at the same time, but I still caught it.

"Oh shit."

**That's the end of Chapter 3, guys!**

**I won't be publishing Chapter 4 until Monday maybe, not sure yet!**

**Hope you enjoyed!**

**BYE!**

**-kates the firework**


	4. Chapter 4: The Lady with the Red Hair

_**I'M BAAAAAAACK! :-D**_

_**Thanks to the two guest reviewers, and to Huggs who is following the story!**_

_**THANK YOU!**_

_**Here's Chapter 4**_

The lady with the red hair scanned the room. Her eyes rested on me only for a second, taking in my petrified looking stance, wide eyes and gaping mouth, and then snapped back to Clint and Tony.

"Who is this?" she asked in a deadly calm voice. I hugged my knees closer to my chest. The other three weren't looking exactly confident either.

"She's no one," Tony said, matching the red head's calm tone. "No need to always be so suspicious, Natasha."

The lady, Natasha, smiled mechanically, before moving like lightning towards Tony, and in less than three seconds she had him pinned up against the wall, her hand around his neck the only thing keeping him suspended a half a foot from the floor against the wall.

"It's my job to be suspicious, Stark, now, I'll ask you again, who is she, or do I have to go get Pepper?"

Tony tried to shake his head, but his face was slowly going purple and he made a choking noise. Natasha let him go. "Fine," she said, as Tony gasped for air and massaged his neck gingerly, "If you won't talk, she will. All of you. Out. NOW!" she shouted the last bit, and both Bruce and Clint hurried quickly towards the door, Tony following. When he got to the door he turned to look at me. "Move it, Stark." Natasha said from behind me and he reluctantly closed the door behind him.

Natasha sat across from me on the bed; her legs crossed and said "Stop looking so frightened, nobody's going to eat you." I bit my lip, and loosened my grip on my knees, only then realising how tight I had been gripping them. I massaged my wrists. "Who are you?" I asked her, surprised at how quiet my voice sounded.

She held out here hand for me to shake. "Natasha Romanoff." I took it cautiously and we shook hands. "What's your name?" she asked me, a friendly tone to her voice, but I could see in her eyes she was still suspicious.

"You really want the list?" I asked her in disbelief.

"Excuse me?"

"I've had a lot of names." I admitted. Since I was born, practically, my name had been changed every time we moved. And we moved a lot. By the time I was nine, when I went to the school in Miami with Tony and the others, I had lived in a grand total of 18 different countries and 7 different States. I told her this, and she frowned.

"Narrow it down then," she said, the friendly tone becoming more distant with every second. "Do you know your birth name?"

I nodded. "Christina Ann Cotter."

She smirked. "Nice." I glared at her. "That's what the boys know you as?" She didn't seem at all frightened or perplexed my glare, she found it amusing, and I could see her fighting a smile as she crossed me off as a potential threat in her head. I pursed my lips and shook my head.

"No," I said, "I'm Margaret Carter to them. That or _Queen Victoria_," I spat out, suddenly very angry again.

She raised her eyebrows in the change in my tone. "Queen Victoria?"

"Mocking my British accent, I suppose," I replied. "Can't you hear it?"

"Not really," she said, "I can only hear it because I was trained to."

"It was stronger when I was younger," I admitted, before I did a double take. She was _trained_ in recognising _accents_?

She continued, seemingly oblivious to the questions brewing on my face. "So, what does Tony have against you?"

I could see where this was going, but her question seemed surprising, considering the obvious smirk on her face when she heard my name; I thought she would have been more subtle. Obviously not.

"I'm not your enemy."

"In my line of work, looks can be very deceiving," she replied.

I gave a frustrated scream through my gritted teeth. "What more do you want? Do you want to know how much I hate his guts for what he's done to me? How he made my life a living hell?" By this stage I had begun to pace, ignoring the screaming pain at the back of my head, my voice getting gradually louder with each passing second. "He made my middle school life so painful some nights still I wake up nightmares from all the times he hit me until I wasn't able to stand anymore. Now he has his two sidekicks throwing bricks at me and kidnapping me, all for some stupid silence, for something that I don't even know yet. And if you're with them," I spun around to face her, "then yes, I'm your enemy."

She actually looked surprised. "So... you were bullied in middle school. By Tony?"

"If being mocked, beaten-up, pushed, shoved, tortured, isolated, threatened and called unprintable name comes under the term "bullying," then yes," I replied, wincing as my head gave a particularly nasty throb.

She stood up and led me back to the bed and looked at me with worried eyes, the first real emotion I had seen from her, but I was too tired from the pain to care. My vision was starting to double so I closed my eyes and lent my head against the wall.

"Jesus," I heard her mutter, and then, louder to me, she said, "Are you _sure _it was a brick they threw?"

"Nope," I replied, opening my eyes to look up at her. "I'm taking Barton's word for it."

I thought I saw her eyes harden ever so slightly when I said his name, but it was so fast I doubted myself. With a messed up head I could be sure of nothing!

"So...,"she trailed off, and I looked up at her expectantly, "Can you think of anything that the boys would want your silence over?"

"Search me," I said, shrugging, before a thought came to me. "Actually..."

"What?"

"I can think of something."

"And?"

I could sense her impatience and I smiled slightly, before I stopped in case she thought I was smiling about what I was about to say.

"They thought, up until now, I guess, that I was dead, and that it was Tony's fault."

_**Thats it for now guys, hope you enjoyed and sorry if it's abit dodgy**_

_**I'll post more soon!**_

_**Peace out!**_

_**-kates the firework**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Thanks to the peole who reviewed and followed!**_

_**Here's Chapter 5!**_

"... and that's it." I finished with a sigh.

I had spent the last two hours being bombarded with questions from Natasha about everything and anything she could think of, and I, being a complete idiot, had blurted everything out about my past without thinking. I had told her things I never even told Alex, who I was closer to than anyone else in the world. But I got the feeling that I could trust Natasha, she seemed to be the friendliest person I would meet in the box I was stuck in. That, and the fact I had seen her tackle Tony against a wall in less than three seconds gave me the feeling they weren't the best of friends. Natasha, or Tasha as I now called her, just stared, and would have looked perfectly composed if her eyes hadn't been popping out of their sockets.

"Wow," she said finally.

"That's the quietest you've been yet," I told her with a light laugh, waiting for her verdict. I didn't have to wait long.

She stood up abruptly so I did too. "What are you going to do?" I asked her.

Her face was grim. "I am going to have a very long talk with Clint Barton," she replied, her lips pressed into a hard line.

"No!" I gasped, the pain in my head throbbing nastily as I struggled to see straight. I grabbed her arm as I swayed on my feet. "Tasha, you mustn't! Please!"

She seemed surprised by my reaction. "I won't hurt them," she soothed, as she caught me and lay me down on the bed. "I just want to talk. Clint and I have been friends for a long time; I wouldn't ever hurt him, okay?" She gave a small smile.

"What about Tony?" I persisted, pushing myself up on my elbows.

She paused. "I'm getting all the facts from Clint first, all right?" Before I could object, she pushed me down on the bed again. "Go to sleep," she said softly, "Your head will feel better when you wake up."

"Thank you, Tasha." I said gratefully, looking up at the woman who had took less than two hours to become my friend.

She smiled at me, genuinely. "Sleep, you'll need your rest."

"Why?" I asked, curious now.

She sighed with impatience and pulled one of the chairs over to my bed. "I won't leave until you go to sleep, you know that, right?"

I sighed in annoyance, knowing she wouldn't answer my question now. "Fine," I grumbled to myself and she laughed softly. "Sweet dreams," she whispered.

-x-

Once I had made my breathing slow and deep enough for long enough, she seemed convinced I was asleep and got up pulling out her phone as she went. I watched her through my half closed lids. She dialled a number into her phone and held it up to her ear, glancing at me every few seconds. "Steve?" she whispered, "Steve, when you get this, come to IR134 as soon as you can. Thanks." She snapped the phone shut and waited.

Five minutes later a tall blond man rushed in. "Natasha?" he said and Natasha shushed him quickly. Keeping with my Oscar performance, I sighed and rolled over onto my side, where I had a better view of the two adults. "Is everything alright?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"Yes," she said, "I just need to take care of a few things. Will you watch her for me?"

"Who is she?" he asked

"I'll tell you later," she glanced over at me again, "I just don't want to leave her on her own."

"Why?"

"She's been through a lot today. I'll fill you in later, okay? Call me if she wakes up."

"What's her name?" he asked curiously.

"Tony, Clint and Bruce know her as Margaret Carter," he froze at the name, "but she told me her name is Chrissie. Chrissie Carter, okay?"

He only nodded, eyes fixed on my face, and Natasha quickly left. When the door quietly snapped shut, he took a step towards me.

"Peggy?" he whispered.

_**Hope you guys enjoyed!**_

_**I know its short, but you guys deserve an update!**_


	6. Chapter 6: JARVIS

_**Hi guys!**_

_**Sorry for the fast update yesterday, I was in a wee bit of a rush! **_

_**Hope you guys enjoyed it anyway!**_

_**Shoutouts: Snoweylily and April Woods, thanks for the awesome reviews!**_

_**Rayne90, Katya Romanov, MadHatBalloons and WhovianTributeSherlockian, thanks for following and to Rayne90 and WhoviainTributeSherlockian for favourite-ing!**_

_**Is that a word? Favourite-ing. Hmm. Now it is.**_

_**OKAY!**_

_**Here's Chapter 6 for you awesome people! **_

I didn't move as he whispered my old nickname. No one but my parents and my old neighbour, Ms. Carter ever called me that. Then why did he?

I had no idea who this man was, and I was fighting the urge to blush as he stared intently at my face. I was well aware that my permed red tinted hair was a mess, and my normal red lipstick was more than likely smudged. I groaned inwardly.

But this man didn't seem to see any of it. He looked at me like I was the most amazing, beautiful person in the world, and I could feel the heat off cheeks and I knew I was probably as red as my lipstick.

I glanced sideways at him again. He had dropped into the chair next to my bed, and exhaled slowly. He was still staring, but his eyes were sad. They looked old, too, much too old for his face. They looked like they had seen so much pain and suffering, that I could only imagine. And, considering the amount of pain I had been through, I shuddered involuntarily at the thought.

He sighed again, and I turned my head, to get a proper look at him through my half closed lids. His eyes were still sad, his shoulders slouched in defeat. He looked like the weight of the world was crashing down onto his two well muscled shoulders. He looked so young, too young to have gone through any of the pain his body language was suggesting. Or maybe I was just looking into it too much. Then he spoke.

"I'm sorry," he said laughing softly yet sadly at the same time. "You looked like someone I knew."

I waited for him to continue. It sounded like he had been holding it in for quite a while.

"Her name was Peggy. Peggy Carter. She looked a lot like you, but she was around in the 40s, like me." He smiled. Either this guy was completely of his nut, or else he had and amazing time machine that had just transported him straight from 1940s America. I presumed the first.

"She was a handful of fire, she was. She saw me kissing another girl once, and she waited until I was trying shields with Howard, and when I asked her opinion, she picked up a gun and shot it at the shield until it clocked out and then she said, "Yes, I think it works." And walked out. Just like that. She was lovely though. The first woman I could hold a conversation with." He smiled and stared into space, seeing something I couldn't.

His voice was soothing and my head was screaming at me to give up and sleep. I let it win. I only heard random words after that. "Bucky," "World War 2," "Captain America," – I did a double take on the last one. From what I could gather from my semi conscious state, he had said he was Captain America. Captain America! Alex had piles of comic books on this guy back home in Vancouver. But I was too out of it to think about it anymore. I let sleep take me, still listening his war stories.

-x-

I woke with a start in a dark room to the sound of snoring. I shook my head a few times, trying to remember where I was. Then I remembered. I was still being held hostage by one half of the Avengers for my "silence". I looked to the chair that had occupied Steve the last time I was wake, my eyes adjusting to the dark, only to find it held an obviously tired Clint Barton; his head had lolled back and he was snoring loudly. I quickly scanned the room, looking for a door or any other sign of exit. My eyes fell upon a door at the far end of the room, not unlike the one Tony, Bruce, Clint, Natasha and Steve had all exited and/or entered. I couldn't find that door.

As quietly as I could I crept towards the door, careful not wake Clint. Thankfully, he was out for the count. I sprinted the last few meters to the door yanked it open and bolted inside, closing it softly and locking it. I gave a sigh of relief as my back slid down against the door. I looked around, the lights had come on as soon as I had entered, and it was empty. Empty of people. Not of furniture. I gave a gasp of amazement as I took in my surroundings. Most people would call this room a bathroom. I called it a palace. It was massive! For a bathroom at least. The bathtub alone was the size of several couches pushed together. I hugged my knees to my chest. It was cold in here, but there was no window, nothing that could help me escape. I suppose I had escaped Clint, so that was some comfort.

"Is there anything I can help you with, miss?" A posh British accent, very like how my own used to be before I mastered American, called out, its voice echoing off the walls. I nearly jumped out of my skin with shock.

"Please don't be alarmed, miss," the voice continued, "I am JARVIS, Mr. Stark's Artificial Intelligence, at your service, miss."

"You're a robot?"

"I would like to think I am more than just a robot, Miss Carter, but feel free to refer to me as you wish." The AI answered politely.

"Quit the formalities, JARVIS. Just call me Chrissie, and I'll call you..."

"Jarvis will suffice perfectly, mi-" he corrected himself, "Chrissie."

I smiled at his slip up.

"So, Chrissie, if you don't mind me asking," he was still incredibly formally even without calling me "miss," "aren't you're sleeping quarters in your room and not in this cold bathroom?" he questioned.

I shifted uncomfortably. "Well, yeah, but, I, um-"

"I understand perfectly, Chrissie." And the tiles beside me on the wall slid back to reveal cushions and blankets. In amazement, I took them out.

"How did you-"

"I am extremely well prepared, Chrissie." Jarvis replied to my stuttering in a smooth voice. "I suggest you get some rest, you might want to be well rested for tomorrow."

Too tired to ask what was happening what was happening tomorrow, even though I knew he would still have probably answered my question anyway, I curled into a ball on top of one of the blankets. Jarvis dimmed the lights.

"Sleep well Chrissie," he whispered.

"Thanks Jarvis," I yawned as I drifted off to sleep.

_**Hope you guys enjoyed! **_

_**Feel free to review!**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**What up peeps?! :-P**_

_**Hope you're all enjoying the story so far!**_

_**Here's Chapter 7!**_

I was so warm and comfortable under my blankets. Knowing I would have to face the Avengers sometime, I drowsily opened one eye, before sitting bolt upright.

I wasn't on the bathroom floor anymore. I was in my bed. How was I in my bed? My frantic eyes rested on Captain America, sitting in the exact same chair I had last seen him on, like no time had passed. He leaned forward, extending his hand.

"I don't believe we've meet. Captain Steve Rogers at your service." He smiled.

I took his hand, still a bit bewildered. "Chrissie Carter."

I dropped my hand and he did too. I looked down at my clothes. They weren't the same ones I had had on yesterday. I was in pyjamas.

I looked up again at him. "How did I get here?"

He looked away from my gaze. "Well," he started, staring at the wall. "I was coming to watch you, and I woke Clint and you were gone," my eyes narrowed when he said I was being watched, "we both panicked. We couldn't understand where you were; you couldn't hide and with the room on lockdown you couldn't escape. We combed this room for a full ten minutes before Jarvis told us you were asleep in the bathroom. Needless to say, we felt like complete idiots," he laughed but still avoided eye contact.

Despite the fact that I was angry at being "watched," like I was some toddler that couldn't be without parental supervision for two seconds, I felt my face get hot with embarrassment. I was never self conscious, so this development annoyed me. "Sorry," I muttered.

"Don't worry about it," Steve replied, "You're quite light." He smiled again, before jumping out of his chair and crossing the room. I swung my legs out of the bed before I realised a problem.

"Um, sir?" I didn't know how to address him, but he did say he was a Captain, so it seemed appropriate, "who put these clothes on me?" I asked, looking down at my pale bare legs, before glancing over my shoulder at him.

His cheeks glowed pink. "Natasha did." I didn't miss the small embarrassed smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth.

I let out an audible sigh of relief, then immediately clamping both hands to my mouth and looking up at him sheepishly.

What the HELL was wrong with me?

He was obviously embarrassed because he said, "Jarvis said that he had clothes for you in the bathroom."

Ignoring the fact that a computer possibly knew my clothes size, I fled to the bathroom.

As soon as the door slammed shut behind me, I let out a shaky breath I didn't know I was holding. I walked over to the mirror by the sink and gripped each side of the sink with both of my hands for support. The girl staring back at me in the mirror was a stranger. She had wild hair, flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. Not at all like my normally perfect hair, pale white skin and cold eyed stare. I couldn't understand my sudden strangeness. I was well aware of my heart slamming against my ribs, as if it was trying to find a way out of my rib cage but it wasn't succeeding. At all. I stood up straight, wiping my sweaty palms off my... legs. I had to find pants. Fast. I doubted I was ever going to be able to look Steve Rogers in the eye again. But why should I care? I barely knew him. I slapped my face. It didn't help. So I tried to ignore my churning stomach (if there had been anything in it to churn) and shook my head a few times before turning away from the sink. "Jarvis?" I called out.

"Yes, Chrissie?" came the immediate reply.

"Captain Rogers said something about clothes...?"

"Say no more, Chrissie." The tiles above the gigantic bath slid open and a basket was dropped into the bath, sliding around a few times before it came to a stop. I looked at the clothes in amazement. They were the exact type of clothes I would have chosen for myself. I pulled off the long pink top Natasha had dressed me in and slid on the navy polo-necked dress and leggings. A bit tight on the comfort side, but otherwise very fashionable. Why I was thinking of fashion in here was beyond me. I struggled a brush through my mad hair, and pulled it into a ponytail. I glanced in the mirror again.

My heartbeat was still going at ninety miles an hour, and my eyes still sparkled, but other than that, I looked a lot calmer and more myself than I had a few minutes ago.

I shivered. The bathroom was cold, still, so I took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door.

My room appeared to be empty until a tiny movement caught the corner of my eye.

Natasha was standing at the door. Calmly she walked over to me and pulled my into a tight hug. To my surprise, I hugged back. It had been a long time since I had hugged someone or been hugged by anyone, now I thought about it.

Natasha pulled back. "How's your head?" she asked.

I had completely forgotten about my head. I touched the now painless lump at the back of my head and grinned. "Fine," I answered, still grinning.

My stomach gave a loud rumble. We both looked at my stomach.

"...when was the last time you ate something?" Natasha asked after a pause.

"My coffee break at Starbucks."

"What time?"

"Quarter past seven, I think?" I said thinking. "Why? What day is it?"

"It's Thursday, 1am. You haven't eaten anything in nearly 30 hours." Natasha said as my stomach gave another angry growl. "You need to eat, Chrissie."

"You think?!" I gasped, clutching my stomach dramatically and she laughed.

"Jarvis, Chrissie and I would like to make ourselves some breakfast, please." Natasha said, looking up at the ceiling expectantly.

"As you wish, Ms Romanoff," the AI replied as the walls slid away with kitchen appliances taking their place.

My mouth fell open and Natasha laughed again. "So, Chrissie, what would you like for your breakfast today?" she said in a business like tone.

"... I can make it?"

"Sure, just as long as it doesn't take too long, you're not the only one who's starving."

"Fair enough then." I grinned as I dashed around the kitchen.

_**Hope you all enjoyed!**_

_**Coming up in the next chapter: some whoop ass and the director himself, Mr. Fury!**_

_**Bye!**_

_**-kates the firework**_


	8. Chapter 8: Realising

_**Hi guys!**_

_**Firstly, I apologise most profoundly to Snoweylily, who kindly pointed out to me that I made the shocking mistake of misspelling Steve Roger's name. The mistake had been fixed and I hope I am forgiven. Am I? :-P**_

_**Thanks to lais1993, HaileyBird and ShortMonester for following, and to Snoweylily and 08bdovea for their very helpful reviews.**_

_**They do mean alot, so thanks guys!**_

A quarter of an hour later, Natasha and I were sitting on the kitchen worktop eating scrambled eggs on toast. Neither of us spoke for a while, too hungry to be bothered with conversation. I bit into my third slice of toast when it occurred to me that maybe she waiting for me to speak. "So...," I trailed off. Natasha looked up at me expectantly. "What's your story?"

"What?"

"As in, who are you?"

She looked at me like I was mental. I rephrased my question. "I spent two hours telling you about my life, and where I came from, now it's your turn." I noticed the expression on her face plainly said that she did not want to revisit her past. "The less painful bits." I added. She looked up, surprised. I shrugged. "I've always found it easy to read people."

So she told me. I could tell that she was heavily editing as she went along, but I didn't push it. She told me about her work as a Soviet spy, how she got on SHIELDS radar as a dangerous assassin, and how Clint was sent to kill her but instead he saved her and convinced the Director that she could be trained as an agent, like he was. Her tone softened as she talked about him and I hid a smile.

When she finished telling me about the training, I said cheekily, "I betcha I could take you." I laughed but Natasha smiled and stood up, taking my plate and putting hers and mine in the sink. "Alright," she said. "Stand up."

My grin froze. "Tash, I-I was only j-joking," I stammered.

She smiled wider, "Oh, so you're going to back down, are you? After setting the challenge? Like a coward?"

She knew exactly which buttons to press, but that didn't stop me from jumping off the worktop. "I'm not going to fight you, Natasha." I said quietly. She grinned. "This is going to be short then."

Without any warning she charged at me and tried to whack my shoulder blade as she passed, but I dropped to the floor and rolled over before jumping up again. She spun around to face me and grinned. "You're fast," she said. "That was just the warm up." She stepped forward lightly before aiming a punch at my stomach. I blocked it with my forearm, caught her arm and twisted it behind her back before quickly letting go. She spun around again. I held my hands up around my face and torso protectively, before she attacked again.

My marshal arts teacher always said that I had this sixth sense in that I could tell what move my opponent was going to make before they knew themselves. It comes in handy, as you can imagine. I found it easier than most also to spot weaknesses and holes in attackers, which is also quite helpful.

But, to be fair to Natasha, she was very difficult to spot. The way she held herself and the way she attack showed no weaknesses and no opportunities to take her down. But I didn't want to take her down. And Natasha quickly realised this when I dodged another hit.

"You're not fighting back," she said, dropping her hands. I dropped mine.

"I don't have a reason to." I replied.

She laughed at that. "Are you kidding? I just attacked you. Several times."

"Tasha, you have been nothing but a friend to me in this box," I gestured the four walls, "and you have no idea how much that means to me. I can't and won't fight you because I don't want to hurt you."

She smiled. "I'm an ex-assassin. You'd find it hard to hurt me, Chrissie."

I grimaced. "You'd be surprised."

"Surprise me then."

I sighed, before folding my arms. "No."

"Pretend I'm Tony then." Her hand flew to her mouth as soon as she said his name, and I could tell she wished she hadn't said anything. I didn't care. I couldn't help it. As soon as his name left her lips, my blood burned with anger and my body tensed. My eyes narrowed and I ran at Natasha, who prepared herself, but even she couldn't stop me. I viciously punched her stomach and she cried out in surprise. While she was distracted, I twisted my ankle around hers and pulled and she fell straight onto her back with a thump.

My eyes were burning. I was surprised to find that they were tears. I shook my head, wiping the tears away, only then realising what I had done. I gasped in horror and looked down at Natasha, who was eyeing me anxiously. I immediately grabbed her hand and helped her up, even though she would have managed perfectly fine by herself. "I'm so, so, so, so sorry Tasha!" I said in a rush. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I couldn't help it, I-"

"Chrissie," Natasha cut me off, holding up a hand. "If you are going to feel anything for what you just did, don't feel angry, feel proud. Not many people can floor me like that, that fast, if they can at all."

"I'm so sorry," I said again.

"Don't be, that was excellent," she said, grinning at me.

"It was indeed." A voice said from behind us and we both turned. A tall dark skinned man in a black trench coat and eye patch was walking towards us.

"Director Fury." Natasha's tone was respectful, but her eyes were angry. "I had no idea you were coming to the Avenger Tower today."

So that's where we were. Hmm. I was still in New York. Interesting.

Natasha had moved slightly ahead of me as she was talking, as if she was trying to protect me. Why? I wondered.

The tall man ignored her and held out his hand to me. "I am Director Nick Fury, head of S.H.I.E.L.D."

So _this_ was the man that had wanted Natasha dead. I didn't take his hand and stayed silent. Natasha cleared her throat awkwardly and I looked up at her. She was shaking her head. I got the message but I folded my arms stubbornly. "What do you want from me?"

He dropped his hand. "We don't want anything _from_ you, Miss Carter-"

"Bullshit. You wouldn't have me locked up in here if you didn't want me for something."

The Director cleared his throat at my language. "At S.H.I.E.L.D., we monitor potential threats, and-"

"Threats?" I interrupted again, it was clearly pissing him off but I really didn't care. "So I'm a threat now? Listen, I don't know what lies Stark has been telling you, but that's all they are. Lies. I-"

"What," Fury cut in, "does Tony Stark have to do with this?"

"He bullied her bad when they were kids." Natasha filled in quietly.

Fury turned to her, "Thank you, Agent Romanoff. Now, as I was saying, we monitor _potential _threats, which we have come to the conclusion that you are not, but given your history-"

"With Stark?" I said incredulously.

"No, with Stephen and Margaret Cotter."

I was surprised to hear my parent's real names come out of his mouth. "You knew my parents." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," he said, "they were S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and they became the targets of a secret terrorist group, who we believe is still at large. They were granted witness protection when you were born-"

"Which explains why we had to move around so much." I finished for him, talking more to myself now than to him. It made sense. Up until I was nine, I had gone through 25 different names, excluding my name now and my birth name. My parents would never tell me why, but I understood now, they were protecting me from the truth.

"Exactly," Fury said, "But we are unsure if they have learned of your existence yet, or if they are just bidding their time, so for your own safety we are going to hold you here until the threat has passed."

"No way," I told him. "No way in hell are you keeping me here, locked up. I have rights. If I can work in Starbucks in one of the biggest cities in the world I think I can handle a couple of terrorists."

"I was hoping you would say that," Fury smiled happily, "Because I have another option."

I raised my eyebrows. "Which is?"

He grinned. "Miss Carter, how would you like to become one of Earth's Mightiest Heroes?"

_**Thanks for reading, see y'all later!**_

_**-kates the firework**_


	9. Chapter 9: Breaking

_**What up peeps?**_

_**Thanks to Snoweylily for her review (and for forgiving me for my outragous mistake ;-p) and to msroe00 for following the story. **_

_**Hope you guys enjoy!**_

"What?!" Both Natasha and I cried.

"I'm not a superhero!" I cried at him.

"You just took down one of my best agents who is _in_ the Avengers, Chrissie."

"By the element of surprise! Anyone can do that! She could take me down in her sleep!" I cried at him.

"Director, shouldn't you think this through?" Natasha interrupted, keeping her cool a hell of a lot better than me.

"Since when have I ever not thought through a decision, Agent Romanoff?" Fury replied coolly.

"But sir, it would be fruitless, she hates most of the team anyway, and-"

"I seem to recall that not all of the Avengers were the best of friends when this initiative first started," Fury said pointedly.

That shut Natasha up fast.

"No way, I'm not doing it." I was completely against it.

"Very well then," Fury said, heading for the door, "You're stuck in here." And he slammed the door shut behind him. "I'm going to fix this." Natasha said to me and darted towards the door. I was frozen in place. What Fury had said was starting to sink in, and I felt my way to my bed and dropped onto it. Why were my parents targets? Why was I only now a potential target? And if I was a target, then why were S.H.I.E.L.D. so concerned for my safety? It didn't make sense. Shouldn't they have more important things to worry about? All these questions swam around in my head, and I felt dizzy. Behind that dizziness, I felt angry, and in my frustration I slammed my fist down on the locker next to my bed. Yup, I felt seriously angry. I clenched my fist harder until I saw a small drop of blood slip down my arm from my palm. I unclenched my fist and saw that my nails had made puncture marks in my palm, and one was bleeding. "Jarvis," I said in a low, tight voice, "put away anything that you don't want me to break."

"Chrissie, I really don't think-"

I screamed in frustration and kicked over the locker with a force I didn't know I had in me. And kicked and kicked and kicked until it could hardly be called a locker anymore. I heard movement. I whirled around and saw the kitchen disappearing behind the walls. I grabbed a delicate looking vase from one of the worktops. I don't know why, maybe I thought at the time that it would piss Tony off if I broke something of his, I don't know. I put the vase on the floor and flipped over my bed. I picked up the chair Steve so often sat in and flung it against the mirror on the other side. It was smashed to smithereens. I did that to the rest of the furniture, and surveyed the demolition site. I knew I looked a mess, but I didn't care. My eyes fell on the vase I had set aside. It looked so perfect next to all of the wrecked furniture; it made me want to scream. So I did. I screamed and in to long angry stride I was in front of it. Curling my fingers into a fist again, I smashed down on it from above. Glass was flying everywhere. I felt some cut under my left eye, and another few jagged pieces gouged the side of my hand. There was blood everywhere but I didn't stop. I was so angry I didn't have a clue what I was doing. I could have been going crazy for all I knew. I was faintly aware of a yell, and shouting, before I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder. I looked up in my already dulling vision; I saw a flash of blond hair, then nothing.

_**SUSPENCE... AGAIN! :-P**_

_**Hop you guys enjoyed. **_

_**Peace out!**_

_**-kates the firework**_

_**P.S. I know its abit random why Fury would want Chrissie in the Avengers, but worry not, it shall become clear in the near furture, my friends! (Random thor moment there, oops!)**_

_**ByE! **_


	10. Chapter 10: Serum

_**Hi guys!**_

_**Firatly, thanks to StephanieLockedInTheTARDIS for following Unforgivable, and to Snoweylily, DCT Won't Forget You Now and April Woods for their lovely reviews. **_

_**You guys are awesome!**_

When I woke up, I felt refreshed and oddly calm and satisfied. I opened my eyes to bright light and I rubbed them tiredly, before sitting up slowly and opening them again.

I wondered if I would ever get used to waking up and seeing Steve Rogers sitting in a chair that now seemed to be his. Seriously, no one else ever sat there. Then again, not many people ever came in to see me much.

He smiled at me and my chest felt weird, like my insides tried to somersault but failed and instead just rolled over.

If you have ever experienced that, you will know exactly what I'm talking about.

"How are you feeling?" he asked me, still smiling his small smile.

I looked down at the arm that I smashed the vase in. It was in a cast. I felt to where the glass had cut my face. A plaster. I looked around the room. It was immaculate, everything exactly where it was supposed to be, like I hadn't had a panic attack and destroyed the place. Lastly, I felt to where I felt the pain in my shoulder just before I blacked out. There was a plaster there too.

"What happened?" I asked him anxiously, "Why did it hurt here?" I touched my shoulder, "And why does everything look like I didn't smash it to pieces?" I bombarded him with questions and he gave a dry chuckle.

"Calm down," he said. "What question do you want an answer to the most?"

I touched my shoulder again without thinking about it. He sighed and averted my steady gaze. "I had to sedate you," he looked up at me apologetically, "you reduced everything you touched to rubble, and you were losing a lot of blood too. We had to do something..." he trailed off. "I mean, the Hulk has absolutely nothing on you. You nearly tore the whole place apart!" he smiled ruefully at me. But his expression turned serious again when he continued. "Fury said we couldn't take you to the hospital so we improvised. We took you down to Tony's lab. Bruce stitched you up as best he could, but you were losing too much blood too quickly, and besides that, the glass from the vase had ripped the tendons and nerves in your hand apart," I looked down anxiously at my hand and flexed it; it felt fine, "the glass was in too deep. So we had to...," he took a deep breath and looked up at me, "Don't be mad, okay?"

"Why would I be mad?" I said confused.

"Because... okay, look, you know about the super serum that made me... bigger," I nodded quickly, "well, Bruce has been researching the serum and its properties, and since you were losing so much blood-"

"Hang on," I said, cutting him off and holding up my hand, "the last time he did that and injected it into someone, someone as in _himself_, he created the Hulk, didn't he?!"

Steve looked at the ground. "Yes," he answered in a small voice.

"And now that stuff is in _me_?!" I shrieked.

"No," he said hurriedly, "See, Bruce made a mistake in the calculations he made before, plus he didn't have my bloods to help him. He has it tested over and over; he wouldn't have injected it into you if he wasn't absolutely sure that it would be fine."

"What did he test it on?" I hissed through my teeth.

Steve gulped. "He can tell you that himself." He paused. "There is something else you should know..."

"Yes?"

"When you lost all the blood you lost, there was no way you were going to survive the serum when it was injected into you... it was lucky we have the same blood group."

"So you're saying..."

"I'm saying, you have the super serum in you, like I have, but it reacts differently with gender, according to Bruce, and since you're the first ever female to be injected with it-"

"I thought you said it was safe," I said dryly, my eyes narrowing.

"It is," he amended quickly, "But we just don't know how _exactly_ it will react to your genetic code. That, plus the fact that a percentage of my blood now run through your veins, makes you possibly the strongest super solider in history."

"But I'm not a soldier," I said exasperated, "I'm not a hero! Why does everyone just presume that I am?"

"I am sorry Chrissie," he said, "but we did what we had to do to save your hand."

I hadn't thought of it like that. "Thank you," I whispered.

He smiled again, "My pleasure."

I stretched. "Can I go have a shower please?" To be honest, I wasn't sure if my head could take anymore of this, so I changed the subject. That and I was well aware that I stank to high heaven, and I was pretty sure he knew too. But if he did, he didn't acknowledge it.

"Sure," he said, "just make sure not to take the cast off for another half hour, Bruce said it should be fully healed by then."

"How long have I been out for?"

"About four hours," he answered.

"And it's fully healed in only four and a half hours?!"

He grinned. "That's one of the perks of the serum," he said, "You're body heals fast."

"Right," I said, looking down at my hand in amazement. "Four and a half hours," I mumbled as I stumbled towards the bathroom.

"One other thing," Steve said from behind me.

"Yes?" I said, turning back to him.

"I'm going to teach you how to properly punch."

"Why?"

"Because you need to know how to punch properly so that you don't have to go to A&E afterwards. If you do join the Avengers, you'll be doing a lot of it. And your punching method is absolutely shocking."

"Thanks," I said sarcastically as I opened the door, "That's what every girl loves to hear when she wakes up in the morning."

I could still hear him laughing as I closed the door behind me.

_**Thats it for Chapter 10!**_

_**Hope you guys enjoyed!**_


	11. Chapter 11: Training

_**What up people? :P**_

_**Thanks a million to Snoweylily for her review, and for being generally awesome!**_

_**Here's chapter 11, awesome people!**_

The warm shower water washed away all the blood, dirt, sweat and other gunk that my body and hair had accumulated over the last few days, and the last of the red tint dye in my hair. I wrapped my towel around my body and stared at myself in the gigantic mirror over the sink. I could understand why Steve and the others had panicked and thought I had lost more blood than I actually had. Now with the red dye washed out, my pale skin looked even paler against my dark hair.

It's always mistaken for black.

But it isn't.

It's a really dark brown.

My bandage had gotten wet in the shower and was sliding off. It fell to the floor with a soft thud. I held my arm up in front of the mirror, sideways, so I could see the width of my arm. A long pink scar, already looking weeks and not only hours old, trailed down my arm. It went from the bottom of my baby finger and ran right down to my elbow. I sighed. "Just another mark, Tony," I muttered to myself before I heard a quiet beep. I didn't turn around, but I had a strong feeling that I was being recorded. You know, like the hairs stand up on the back of your neck and all that. I gritted my teeth.

Without warning, my towel slipped from beneath my fingers. Shit, I thought, and then I stopped.

Slowly I turned around, so my back was to the mirror, and looked over my shoulder at myself.

As I had suspected, they hadn't gone away.

Why did I even delude myself into thinking they had?

Stupid.

I guess with the serum in me, I thought... but I was wrong.

Obviously.

Because my back was scarred with long pink lines, like the new one on my arm. The difference between the one on my arm and the rest of them was that the rest of them were all over fifteen years old, and still refusing to disappear. And at this stage, I don't think they ever will. "You always wanted to make your mark on the world, Stark," I said aloud, my voice echoing off the walls, "just don't leave anymore on me."

I stood for another second before picking up my towel and asking Jarvis politely for clothes. He took my old outfit, which was covered in blood, and gave me a tracksuit, tank top, hoodie, a bra, underwear, socks and trainers.

"You know my clothes size, huh?"I remarked dryly.

"I prefer the term "well educated guesses," Chrissie," Jarvis replied smoothly.

I laughed, tying the laces on my shoe. "And my shoe size? And my cup size?"

"Well educated guesses, Chrissie," he repeated.

"Too well educated," I muttered under my breath.

"I heard that," Jarvis said as I put my hand on the door handle.

"You were meant to, Jarvis," I replied with a grin as I went back into my room. I braided my wet hair back as I waited for Steve to come back. He came in five minutes after I left the bathroom.

"Your bandage?" He asked and I held my arm.

"It fell off in the shower," I explained. "Will it ever go away?"

He walked over to me and traced the scar with his finger. I shivered involuntarily. "Sorry," he apologised. "I don't think so. Since you got it before the serum was injected, I don't think the actually scar will ever leave. But I've been wrong before. Any others you obtain from now on will heal fully though."

He walked back to where he had dumped six punching bags when he came in and hung one on a nail from the ceiling. Only then did I realise how tall he was. I don't know how I never noticed it before. Even with the serum inside me, if I stood on my tip toes I would have been at eye level with his shoulder. So yes.

He was very tall.

He looked over at me expectantly so I walked over to him. "Okay," he said, "show me how you punch."

I flailed into the bag, kicking and punching and hitting (and sometimes yelling if the bag swung back unexpectedly) it as hard and as fast as I could. He didn't tell me when to stop, so I didn't. A good half an hour later, he stopped me and I put my hands on my knees and panted. He let me get my breath back, which surprisingly didn't take very long. "That was good," he praised, "especially with the serum in you. Could you have kept going for much longer?"

"I'd say I had a bit left in me," I admitted.

"You look a lot stronger," he agreed, "But I think you are too small to put any completely unstoppable power into a punch, so try to bring you elbow and knees in more, you can put more power behind them."

I nodded. "Like this?" I elbowed the punching bag hard.

He nodded, grinning. "Exactly that."

So I started again, bringing my elbows and knees in more, before he stopped me again.

"What did I do wrong?" It hadn't been five minutes since I had started again.

"You're not pulling back hard enough."

I raised my eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"You need to be able to pull back as hard as you punched out." He put his hands and my stomach and the small of back, "Keep the tension here."

I nodded mutely and he removed his hands as I attacked the punching bag again. My stomach still tingled. After another few minutes I had completely destroyed the bag. The sandy stuff that made up the stuffing of the bag was all over the floor. "Well done!" Steve praised. He looked at the sand covered floor. "You do know you're cleaning all of that up, right?"

"What?!" I gasped, still out of breath.

He laughed. "Do you want a glass of water or something?"

I nodded breathlessly. He walked over to the sink, got a glass out of one of the cupboards, filled it with water from the tap and handed it to me. I drained it in three seconds. "Thanks," I gasped.

He laughed again at my breathlessness and I gave him a playfully glare. "You want to go again?" he asked, getting another punch bag from to floor and hanging it on the nail.

"What about the mess I'll have to clean up?"

"We can do that later."

I grinned at him and walked over to the bag. "Okay then," I said and gave the bag a good kick.

_**Hope you guys enjoyed that!**_

_**Coming up in the next chapter: SUSPENCE AND DRAMA!**_

_**Ha ha no.**_

_**There is a Tony verus Chrissie though.**_

_**Stay tuned people!**_

_**Peace out!**_

_**-kates the firework**_

_**BANG!**_


	12. Chapter 12: Letting it out

_**Hi guys!**_

_**Thanks to Snoweylily for her review, and to daeb for following the story!**_

Some few hours later, after Steve and I had had quite a quite laughs (who knew throwing fistfuls of punching bag stuffing at Captain America would be so fun?), the door opened. We both turned.

Tony Stark was standing awkwardly at the door.

"Hello Tony," Steve said cheerfully.

I just glared at him.

"Nat wants you in the gym, Steve. She sounded pretty pissed," he smirked, but didn't look at me.

"Why?"

"Something about you not cleaning up after yourself after you massacred your punching bag and got dust in her guns," Tony explained.

"Damn," Steve said, jumping up from the bed that we were both sitting on. He turned to look at me. "Keep practicing, I'll be back as soon as I can get away from Natasha Romanoff's evil rants and terrifying glares."

I smiled at him, "Sure," I said before getting up and turning back to the fifth punching bag we had gone through in three hours, expecting Tony to leave.

He didn't.

I turned around. Steve was gone, but Tony still stood at the door awkwardly, twisting his fingers anxiously. "What is it, Stark?" I asked irritably, turning to the punching bag again and giving it a vicious kick.

He pursed his lips together anxiously and remained silent.

"Stark, you either say what you came here to say, now, or I kick your sorry ass out the door." I whipped around angrily to face him. "Which one will it be?"

He opened his mouth, and no sound came out. He cleared his throat. "I...um... I-"

"Spit it out." I glared venomously at him.

"I wanted to apologise," he blurted out.

Whatever I was expecting, that was not it. I was dumbfounded. "Apologise?"

"Yes," he sighed in relief that I didn't start screaming at him, "For when we were kids." Now that he had started, it all came out in a rush, "And for now. Honestly, Clint, Bruce and I had no idea that Fury knew you or anything. He just told us to get you because he said you were going to the press about some big dark secret about the Avengers that would ruin us forevermore. You know the one we immediately thought of," he took a deep breath, "Look, I was a messed up kid, and it's pathetic it has taken me this long to realise that. I'm messed up, full stop. I was angry for a long time, and I took it out on you. You just seemed so happy all the time, and it felt wrong that someone could be so happy when my own world was falling apart. That was sick and wrong, and I apologise. I really am so, so, sorry. I never wanted you to actually _die, _you know that... right?" He trailed off, looking up at me hopefully. I was recovering from the actual shock of him apologising, and what he was saying was starting to sink in.

"You're sorry," I said stupidly.

He smiled in relief, "Yes," and his smile seemed genuine enough.

I didn't care.

"You're sorry," I repeated, raising my voice, "You're sorry, that my body is covered in fifteen year old scars that will never go away? Constantly reminding me what you have done? Of the mark you have left on my life?"

His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to speak but I cut him off.

"You're sorry, are you, that I wake up most nights, screaming from nightmares of you beating me up until I couldn't stand anymore? You're sorry that my parents are dead because of you?" I had worked myself up too much stop. "Because, Stark, you can be sorry for that. You are happy that you ruined my life, because you are a malicious bastard. If it wasn't for you, my parents wouldn't be dead, or better yet, I'd be dead with them!" I screamed at him, my eyes blazing and my face red with rage. He shrank back as if I had slapped him. I took a deep breath. "Get out," I said in a low tight voice, "And don't come back. If I'm stuck here for the rest of my life, I don't want to spend it looking at you, you complete and utter bastard. Get out!" I screamed at him when he didn't move. I started towards him, and he backed away, towards the door, but just before he left, he said," I had no idea. I'm so sorry." With tears in his eyes, he turned away and left the room.

"Yeah, Stark," I screamed after him, "You'd know exactly how hard it is to lose your parents. Both at once!" With a scream of frustration, I kicked over a chair and sat down against the wall. I buried my head in my knees as I wrapped my arms around my knees and sobbed. Tony had reopened the pain, the pain I had tried so hard to conceal and bury, of losing my parents all over again. I sucked air into my lungs and willed myself to stop crying, but the tears still slipped down my cheeks. I wiped them away with my hand. I would not let him win.

No.

So I got up and took it out on the punching bag.

_**Bye!**_

_**Reviews are rewarded with virtual cookies!**_


	13. Chapter 13: It's A Long Story

_**What up peeps?!**_

_**Firstly, virtual cookies must be awarded to Snoweylily and NOTagentsofnothing420 (love the username) for giving such lovely reviews! *hands each one a box of cookies* Enjoy! :P**_

_**Thanks also to SilverShadowWolf46, NOTagentsofnothing420 and puppygal27 for following, and the latter two for favourite-ing! (it is now a word btw)**_

_**Heads up, this is most definitely the LONGEST chapter I have EVER written, so enjoy guys!**_

And that's where Steve found me when he came back, me beating the life (metaphorically) out of another punching bag. At least I was smart enough to stay away from any sharp, breakable things this time. On the other hand (literally) my knuckles were red, raw and in some cases, bleeding. I must have been punching it hard then. I barely noticed him come in at first.

Steve took one look at all this and then, without a word escaping his lips, calmly strode over to me and stood directly behind me. I didn't take any notice until I felt myself being lifted from the ground by my elbows and steered away from the punching bag, before he sat me down on my bed. I was still trembling with uncontrollable anger, the tears streaks still clear on my face. Still not talking, he grabbed a large bowl and a cloth from the worktop that I never noticed before (probably because it never was there before; quick thinking on Jarvis's part, I presumed) and filled the bowl with water from the sink. He came back and balanced the bowl on my lap before kneeling in front of me and carefully dipping one of my shaking, bleeding hands into the bowl. It stung. I stopped trembling, realising what an idiot I was making of myself and I was annoyed when the angry tears made a second appearance and spilled down my cheeks. I wiped them away with my hand.

"The serum will take care of that," Steve said quietly, wrapping my knuckles in a soft cloth and starting on the other hand, "You must have been hitting it hard." I stayed silent, only nodding my head.

When he was finished, he took the bowl and washed it out at the sink. I sat quietly, not looking at him. He walked back to the bed and sat down beside me. "Thanks," I said after a while.

"You can tell me what's bothering you, you know," he said softly, wiping away another tear that was sliding down my cheek. I sucked in air and willed myself to stop crying. It was quiet for another few minutes, before he said, "So you're _sure_ you don't want to tell me why that poor punching bag over there is about to fall apart?"

I gave him a small smile. "Curious much?"

"I just don't like being left in the dark," he said sighing, "Everyone in the tower seems to know exactly who you are, except me. And I'm already behind because of spending seventy years under lots of ice, and I'd rather not add that to the pile of things I have to catch up on. Please?" he begged.

I sighed. "I'm a good listener," he hinted.

"It's a long story."

"I've got time. Besides," he laughed, "how bad can it be?"

I gave him a look.

"... That bad, huh?"

I nodded, then, realising that he wasn't going anywhere, I sighed in defeat. "Get comfortable, because you're going to be here for awhile."

He sat back against the wall, folded his arms and faced me. "Yes, ma'am."

I rolled my eyes, before looking down at my hands nervously. Why was it so much easier to say all of this to Natasha?

"Chrissie?" Steve said softly, hinting me to go on.

I took a deep breath and began.

"I'm going to start at the beginning, so bear with me, okay? It's going to take a while." He nodded in response, giving me his full attention.

"Ever since I was a baby, my parents had moved around a lot. We never stayed anywhere for over six months, though a lot of the time, we only stayed for about a month or so before moving on. I was born in Cambridge, in England and that's where I got my accent from," I smiled ruefully.

"Anyway, every time we moved, we changed our names. I never understood why, and neither of my parents ever explained it to me, so I think from what Director Fury has told me, they were in the Witness Protection Programme.

"When I was nine, we moved to Miami in Florida, and my parents enrolled me in the local middle school. I had been home schooled by my mom up to that point; she was a surprisingly good teacher, actually," I smiled, "but I had never been around kids my own age much. I was quite ahead for my age, so I was put in the fifth grade instead of the forth. That's how I first met Tony Stark." I glanced at Steve. His face was composed, but his eyes were alight with curiosity. "I didn't really notice it at first; I was always very outgoing and happy as a kid, kind of oblivious to the world around me. But even I couldn't miss it after a while. I was pushed in the halls, no one would talk to me at lunch, and rumours would fly around about me. I had no doubt who was behind it. I asked Tony what his problem was, and that's when things got really physical," I swallowed hard, remembering the unpleasant memories I had tried so hard for so long to forget, yet seemed to be permanently etched into my brain, "Every afternoon from then on, after school, I would be cornered by his gang and beaten up, usually in front of a crowd. The bigger the better," I grimaced, "I didn't take it lying down though. I fought back. And when I was beaten up too much to put up a fight physically, I started shouting at him, trying to get under his skin. It worked a lot of the time, but that only made them hit me harder. If I just stayed quiet and let them hit me, it would be finished faster.

"Even though I knew most of the people in the crowd, no one stuck up for me. Bruce, Clint, no one."

He interrupted me then. "Hold on," he said, as if he was trying to grasp an impossible fact, "You, Bruce, Tony and Clint all went to the same _school_?"

I nodded. "Yes."

He frowned. "What's wrong?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "Nothing, it's just...," he trailed off.

"What?"

"They didn't seem to know each other at all when this initiative started. They were like strangers."

I cocked my head thoughtfully. "I suppose they were. It was a big school, and Tony was very popular. Everyone knew who he was, but he didn't know everyone. And it was a long time ago." I explained.

He nodded, trying to let the information sink in. "Is this too much for you?" I asked anxiously, "I can stop-"

"No, no," he said hurriedly, "Just give me a second."

I nodded, but by the time I was finished he said, "Right, so you were saying, no one stood up for you."

"Right," I nodded, remembering where I was, "No one could, because Tony had the power to make your life hell, like he was doing to me." I heard him mutter "bunch of cowards" under his breath, but I continued on, "I couldn't tell my parents. I knew they would be ashamed of me for not being able to stand up for myself. Not that they'd ever tell me, but I knew I wouldn't be able to stand seeing the disappointment in their eyes. There was no one I could tell," I swallowed hard, "But one day, I got lucky. Every afternoon, when I got home, I would sit outside my next door neighbour's house and try to think of a new excuse to explain the new bruises to my parents. I didn't even realise she had seen and heard me every day when I would sit and mutter to myself on the other side of her wall. One day she let me in to her house. She cleaned me up and promised not to tell anyone unless I wanted her to. Slowly I opened up to her, and she did the same to me. She was an old lady, and I had seen her name on her mail when we had moved to Miami first, and that was my name for that move. So every day she would clean me up after school, and give me a glass of milk and a cookie," I smiled, "She did this, every weekday, for three months. Her husband and children had died in a car crash thirty years before that, and she survived. She told me about her army days for World War Two, how it took her so long to move up the ranks in the army, and how eventually she was shipped out from England to America to help train super soldiers. She worked with Howard Stark, Tony's dad, back then and-" I felt Steve tense beside me so I quickly moved on, "Anyway, one beating up was really bad. I ended up coughing up blood after it and a broken rib had punctured my lung. I guess I had pushed Tony too far that time. I staggered home, thanking God that we lived so close to the school, but I forgot to go to Peggy's," I heard Steve inhale sharply, "and a gunman, the man who had shot my parents, shot me in the leg. An ambulance was called by someone and I woke up in a hospital to find out that my parents were dead and I had a long and painful road of recovery ahead of me. I managed to escape the hospital when they told me I was going to be sent to an adoption home, to Vancouver in Canada where a friend of my dad's lived. I got lost, and I was sitting on a bench, trying to stem the bleeding of my newly reopened gunshot wound, when Alex's parents found me."

"Alex?" he questioned.

"She's practically my sister now," I explained. "Her parents, Marie and Dave took me in an adopted me and we've been inseparable ever since."

"Wow," he said after a long silence.

"Yeah," I agreed, "and now I'm stuck here."

"You could join the Avengers-" I glared at him, "or not," he amended quickly.

"I'm not a superhero, Steve," I sighed, "I'm just a normal, ordinary person."

Steve grinned at that. "You are anything but ordinary, Chrissie."

For some reason, this made me blush and I looked down at my hands. I played the conversation back over in my head. Something didn't add up...

And then it clicked.

I froze. "Chrissie?" Steve called uncertainly but I didn't hear him. It was so obvious! Steve mistaking me for someone called Peggy, his reaction to when I talked about Peggy training the super soldiers, her working with Howard...

My mind flashed back to the time when Peggy was telling me about the super soldiers. _"There was only ever one," she had said, "because the remaining serum was destroyed and the creator was killed by a Nazis science division called Hydra. The super soldier was called Captain America," she had smiled at the memory, then got up, "but he was killed when his plane crashed somewhere in Alaska. Howard spent his entire life searching..." she had trailed off, rummaging through a drawer, "Here's what he looked like before the serum was injected," she had said before passing the picture to me, "He was quite handsome, don't you think?" I had nodded in response. "Very handsome," I had agreed solemnly and we both giggled. _

I struggled to remember what the face in the picture had looked like, gasping when I did, only to be snapped out of my thoughts by the same Captain America from the picture, just with a little more muscles, who had been sitting next to me, but was now gripping my shoulders tightly. I clutched his arm. "Steve," I said in a low, frantic whisper that only he could hear, "Is that a one way window?" I asked, nodding towards the mirror that stretched across one wall. He gave a tiny nod. "And is there someone on the other side of that window watching us right now?"

Another nod.

"Steve, I need you to distract them from me. Get them away from where they can see me. Jarvis?" I whispered quietly. Jarvis beeped in response. "Can I have access to a computer?" He beeped again. "Does that mean yes?" I asked Steve. He nodded. "Can we be heard?" I asked Steve anxiously.

He shook his head. "Completely soundproof."

"Good. Now go."

"Why?"

"I-" I faltered, "I can't tell you."

"And why is that?"

"Because... because I don't want to get your hopes up by telling you."

He planted both feet firmly on the ground and folded his arms, clearly not planning on moving until I gave him a more reliable answer. I sighed, then stood on my tiptoes (I still wasn't tall enough to reach, so he bent down), "I'm going to try to find her. To find Peggy. The Peggy you and I both know."

He stopped breathing for exactly three seconds, then regained control of himself and darted out of the room. I counted to thirty slowly. "Jarvis?" I looked up at the ceiling.

"Turn around Chrissie."

I turned around, and a sleek, thin laptop was resting on the table. "And this will tell me where anyone in the world is right now?"

"One hundred percent guaranteed, Chrissie," Jarvis replied.

I took a deep breath, opened the computer and typed in,

"Agent Margaret "Peggy" Carter."

_**Peace out!**_

_**-kates the firework**_


End file.
